


Mrs Hudson's Flat for the Odd and Different

by LedByTHeUnknown



Series: My Sherlock AUs written for friends. [3]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, M/M, Special Powers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-29
Updated: 2018-08-06
Packaged: 2019-06-18 07:44:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 16,434
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15480972
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LedByTHeUnknown/pseuds/LedByTHeUnknown
Summary: Certain people are born with powers. Sherlock has deep powers of persuasion, he can make you talk. This pairs well with his intelligence and uncanny ability to observe and deduce almost anything and everything about a person. Greg's vast emotional abilities help his empathise with victims and criminals alike it helps him be a better police detective. John never misses and that is one of the best skills to have when you are at war.





	1. At the Start of It All

**Author's Note:**

> This is part of my many AUs that started off as stories for my best friend, now being published as people want to see them so, here it is.
> 
> 1st chapter has a rewrite of A Study in Pink. then it will go from there.

He shut his eyes and felt the change in the air, the subtle whistle of the bullet passing through the space between the gun and the target, the pop, and scream as it found its mark.

Most laughed at John and called him lucky shot Watson. Why close your eyes when shooting.

But John didn't need them open to know where the bullet was going.

He had been a marksman all his life from rocks and balls as a child to now a bullet in a gun in the army.

It was this uncanny ability he had to instantly read his environment and know exactly where and how to hold his weapon to get the desired results.

It allowed him to excel in sports. He was a fantastic rugby player. And it made him an amazing solider even if he was a doctor first.

He couldn't explain it, his parents just called him lucky his sister was often jealous.  But John couldn't help it. It wasn't something he could turn off or get rid of.

It didn't mean he was untouchable. He could find a target not see the future. Though that would have helped on this day, as he moved to the side of a downed soldier he felt a sharp pain in his shoulder, he looked to see the small hole and the spreading blood on his uniform. The pain was blinding, he couldn't function, and his mind couldn't focus even on his immediate surroundings.

There was the faint sound of distant voices and the sensation of falling, then nothing but blackness.

=-=-=

The shadow moved cautiously down the alley careful not to step in any of the liquid that was forming the trail.  Stepping into an unknown accelerant was not a good way to pass the night especially with so many flats in London going up in flames.

The shadow gave a small smile as he eyed his suspect standing in front of the gate that blocked the path. From ground level to about ten feet tall, the long metal poles that made up the gate were set mere centimetres apart not wide enough for fingers to fit though, not that that would help they were smooth, and the nearest crossbar sat at eight feet that were 2 feet out of the suspects reach.

The shadow gave another smile as he stepped behind the suspect.

The suspect turned around and backed against the fence.

"Who, Who are you?" the man asked the shadow.

"The name is Sherlock Holmes; I'm helping out the police track down a serial arsonist. Not my normal kind of case but this last one brought about a murder." Sherlock said as he reached down and placed a hand on the man's shoulder.

"I didn't know anything about no murder!" the man said

"I'd like to try and believe you but, you are trailing an accelerant that we've yet to fully identify and why don't you look me in the eyes and tell me again," Sherlock said with a curt smile

The man hesitated then looked Sherlock in the eye and relaxed.

"Yes I've been setting the fires; the accelerant is one of my own creations. I like fire. I was approached by a guy to help him get rid of a body, he told me the flat and I went to work." The man said

"Who was the man who hired you?" Sherlock asked

"He didn't give me a name he was just a voice on the phone," The man said

"A voice on the phone and you just do as asked" Sherlock mused

"He said if I didn't do it he would kill my mother." The man said.

Sherlock nodded and let go of the man's shoulder and looked away, the man leaned back against the fence then glared at Sherlock.

"How did, I," The man stuttered out.

"How did you freely tell me the truth? It's my gift." Sherlock smirked as more people approached from behind him "Now when Detective Inspector Lestrade gets here you will be placed under arrest for the fire, I will do my best to have the murder charges dropped."

"This the guy freak," a curly-haired detective said as she began to cuff the man.

"Yes he confessed to the fire but the body was already dead, I will stop by the morgue and talk to Molly," Sherlock said "Gavin this man is being used by someone. I will look further into it."

"It's Greg, Freak," the woman said, but Sherlock paid no attention.

The man they were speaking of, Detective Inspector Greg Lestrade approached the man in custody.

"It's ok Donovan," he said to the woman before turning to the suspect "It's a little scary I know. Having Sherlock get a confession, your mind just opens up, but let's get you to the station, and we will have a chat about this voice on the phone," Lestrade said as he and the woman led the suspect to the waiting car. Lestrade paused at Sherlock. Donovan continued to the car with the suspect "I still don't know how you do it" He said, "You never lay a finger on them yet they confess as if their life depended on it."

"You have your empathy and compassion I have persuasiveness,"  Sherlock said as he began to walk away.

"Oh right your powers, like deduction, and memory, you now can read people's minds," Lestrade said

"I don't read their minds, I can simply make them confess, a gift," Sherlock said digging in his pockets and producing a cigarette which he placed in his lips.

"I thought you quit?" Lestrade said

"Well it looks like I didn't," Sherlock said before lighting it and walking away "I will contact you when I have more on the voice."

With that Sherlock left.

"Freak" Donovan said as Lestrade returned to the car.

"He's not a freak, he's got a gift," Lestrade said

"It's a trick all smoke and mirrors like a psychic or a medium," Donovan said

Lestrade just shrugged and got in the car.

When Sherlock Holmes had first appeared at a murder scene 5 years ago, he was a scrawny strung out junkie who knew way too much about the case to not be the suspect. So they had him arrested, he then went on a long what he called deduction rant with Lestrade and his two supervisors, he used all these minute details to piece together a person's life, or in the case of how they found him, a murder scene. But what happened when they let him out was even more surprising, when they got back to the scene to let him work on the case more, he spotted a man lurking. The police brought him and started questioning him as Sherlock said he was the murderer, the man denied it, Sherlock approached the man and looked him in the eye and the man started spilling his guts, not only about the murder at hand but about many other crimes, the guy was left in a quivering mess. Sherlock said something about not being able to fully control it while withdrawing.

Greg's supervisors appreciated the help but saw Sherlock as a nuisance, can't have a druggie running around solving crimes, so they dismissed him outright.

Greg offered him a couch to sleep on, but his wife wouldn't allow it, so Greg got Sherlock in a small flat. Every once in a while Greg would stop by and ask Sherlock for help on a case. One day he arrived to find Sherlock unconscious, an overdose.

He got him to the hospital and was informed that the hospital had called Sherlock's contact, a bother named Mycroft, Greg stayed at the hospital until the brother arrived. The brother was different, he was well polished, finely dressed and carried himself with an air of importance, Greg would later find out that Mycroft Holmes was one of the top men in the British Government. Mycroft brought with him two women, one called herself Anthea, she was Mycroft's aide and bodyguard. The second looked like Sherlock, her name was Willa she was their younger sister, in town on leave from the Army. She was dressed to the nines as Greg learned that they had been out to dinner.

Greg watched as Willa reprimanded Mycroft, she had been under the impression that Sherlock was in rehab and that is why he had not joined them for dinner.  Mycroft was dismissive which annoyed Willa further.

Greg stood and suggested that maybe they calm down before seeing Sherlock, Willa agreed, and Mycroft just gave a sneer, thanked the Detective for bringing Sherlock in, then turned to head into Sherlock's room.

Willa turned to Greg and shook his hand letting him know she would make sure he was updated on Sherlock.

Greg thanked her and left. True to her word she kept Greg informed, she shipped off back to Afghanistan shortly after Sherlock left rehab and moved into his new house. But she always made sure to stay in touch.

"Are we heading back sir?" Donovan said bringing Greg back to the present.

"Oh yeah, get his statement and process him in." Greg said, "Then see what we can get back from Molly about the body."

"Assuming the freak isn't already there" Donovan interjected.

"He's not a freak, and he'll be heading home, Willa came home today," Greg said softly

"Home from what?" Donovan asked

"The hospital," Greg said "She's finally got released."

"Oh right I forgot one's a freak and one is mental" Donovan replied

"You should quit labelling people like that" Greg said calmly "Willa watched her fiancé and friends die in front of her during the war, she was nearly killed, it can mess with a person."

Donovan just gave him a look

"You know it's wonderful to have such compassion and empathy but one day that is going to get you in trouble," She said as they headed to the MET.

=-=-=-=-

Several blocks over, Sherlock entered the block of flats at 221 Baker Street. He paused in the hallway as his landlady Mrs Hudson exited her flat.

"I am glad you are home Sherlock, Willa took all her stuff down to 221C and is insisting that she stay down there. Said it would be better for her friends. But I haven't had anyone in to clean it, and she shouldn't be doing such work by herself." Mrs Hudson said flustered.

"If she has chosen to stay down there I am afraid there will be no dissuading her. I will help her clean up though" Sherlock said changing his direction to head to the flat on the lower level.

"You don't even clean your own flat Sherlock" Mrs Hudson scolded

"Fine, I will hire someone to help her" Sherlock replied as the two made their way down the stairs.

Mrs Hudson pushed open the door to the flat, Sherlock made a mental note to speak with Willa about locking her door.

As they entered the basement flat to find Willa sitting on an oversized sofa that curled into an almost u shape in front of the fireplace, the room was spotless. Willa was talking to someone.

"Willa?" Sherlock asked as he approached he saw she was cradling a small rat.

"I called Mycroft, all I did was ask for some money for paint and cleaning supplies, he sent some people over while Mrs Hudson was at Mrs Turners. They were quite efficient. But they were going to kill Gwendolyn" Willa said petting the rat "So I saved her. She likes Cheerios and raspberries."

Mrs Hudson sighed with a smile as she headed back upstairs; she had been warned about Willa's habit of taking in stray animals. Sherlock wanted to make sure it was ok with Mrs Hudson before moving Willa in. Mycroft, of course, had wished to Willa to move in with him, but his strict no pet's policy was a no-go for her.

"I could have helped," Sherlock said kissing her forehead.

"You were off catching criminals" Willa smiled

"I brought you some dinner," Sherlock said setting the container down on the table in front of her.

"Thank you. Are you going to have dinner with me tonight?" Willa asked

"No I'm not hungry, have a case to work on," Sherlock said standing.

"Ok" Willa smiled as Sherlock kissed her forehead again.

Sherlock headed up to his flat.

Mycroft might protest, but Willa could be left alone, she wasn't suicidal, and the nightmares had stopped, she was still quiet, and withdrawn. Mycroft said that she had cognitive issues and that she now had mental damage. Sherlock rebuffed that. Willa had PTSD and that caused her to withdraw, not act like a child, just a shy, introverted adult, the finding companionship in animals was nothing new, at three years old Willa had taken in a squirrel that had fallen and broke its leg. She nursed it back to health, and it was her pet. At times he swore Willa could talk to those animals. Like Sherlock and Mycroft could read the world and people around them Willa could do all that plus with the added bonus of being in tune with the animal kingdom.

When she was older she was teased mercilessly for her shy quietness, as a teen, she was bullied, it led to an eating disorder which led to a suicide attempt. In her treatment centre Willa signed up for the army, Mycroft of course intervened, but when he saw her scores instead of forbidding her from joining, he moved her into a special task force under his command.

Sherlock had never been exactly sure what she did for Mycroft, Willa was good at hiding all her tells and clues that one would use for a deduction. And she would never talk about it.  All he knew was that it was a close-knit team, so close that Willa had become engaged to one of her team members, an Ashton Williams, he was shot in front of her after a new team member went rogue. Willa herself had been shot several times and had nearly bled to death before reaching the field hospital, she spent two months in the hospital and another two in a psychiatric rehab centre, she had only resumed speaking in the last week, and when asked she still wouldn't talk about what happened. But the doctors felt it was okay for her to go home, and settle in.

Willa still wore her ring Ashton gave her, and she had already made plans to go up to Coventry to visit Ashton's father and brothers. She said they would always be a part of her life.

=-=-

Sherlock shrugged off his coat and hung it on the hook leading in the hall, he went over and sat in his chair, pulling his knees up under his chin and tenting his hands on his lips.

The voice on the phone, there had been several suspects for several cases recently that had mentioned a voice on the other end of the phone a voice that threatened the life of one of the person's family members.

The person offered to pay well but also knew that these people would get caught so he knew he wouldn't have to pay. But he must have some money as the odds of all the suspects getting caught was slim, some of these crimes were taking place inside the city of London, outside the MET's jurisdiction. The City of London police were not as welcoming as the MET, maybe it was just that Detective Inspector Lestrade's own abilities endeared Sherlock to him.

Many people were said to have great empathy or compassion for others, but Lestrade's went beyond the surface understanding, He could feel victims fear, he knew the rage of a victim's family member or the nervousness of a witness. It allowed him to say the right things and calm the victims, it also made him understand the criminals more, and that made him a good police officer. Sherlock never bothered with feelings or emotions they clouded one's mind. That's why he figured he was the world's only consulting detective and not a real one, that and no one with his drug history would ever be hired by a law enforcement agency.

But Lestrade was the perfect detective inspector, he had the drive for justice and for seeing those who've done wrong or hurt others, and that empathic gift,  Willa had compared him to a Betazoid once, Sherlock didn't know what that was and had no desire to watch the television program that it was from.

Lestrade was married, no children, his wife, in Sherlock's professional opinion was a leach and an arrogant woman who used Lestrade for his money, not that a MET salary was high, but Lestrade had once been on a track to be a professional footballer, till injury stopped him. He had married at the height of his career, but now his wife was not content with the life she had and was a serial cheater. Sherlock often mused why Lestrade would never leave, but the man was too chivalrous, that and deep down he must have known that while his assets were not the greatest, she would take him for everything he had.

Willa called Lestrade's wife a harpy and a shew, and a bitch; she had called Lestrade one day to let him know Sherlock had received his 3 months clean token. The wife answered and berated Willa about calling married men, Willa politely informed her that she was engaged and happy and that only a guilty suspicious wife would accuse a husband of indiscretions when she full well knew who Willa was and why she was calling.  Willa was never able to call the house again.

When Willa was in the hospital, Lestrade's wife locked him out of the house for two weeks; he crashed on Anderson's couch, for visiting her.

His compassion and not wanting to hurt anyone was hurting him.

Sherlock opened his eyes and picked up his violin and started to play.

At first, it was a thief, framed for the murder of a guard, set up after being told of an easy score at The London Dungeon attraction. He got caught, and it was his sister that was being threatened. He said the voice promised him over ten thousand pounds through a bank transfer and he would also get to keep the money from the dungeon. That was a month ago.

Last week a counterfeiter, when asked to deliver the counterfeit passports he arrived again at setup, the house where he was to make the delivery was the scene of a murder, the voice threatened the counterfeiter's daughter, then today the arsonist and his mother. Before the ones with bodies attached most had been small petty crimes, but all the suspects said they were told to do so by a voice on the phone.

What was this mysterious voices end game, what was the point of this game? Sherlock stopped playing and stared out the window.

Was it the police he was playing with or was it, Sherlock?

=-=-=-

John woke with a start, his shoulder throbbed and his leg ached.  Another nightmare, it had been four months, the nightmares should have stopped.

But every night it was a different angle, sometimes it was seeing the British Special forces team sprayed in bullets, some it was the bullet striking his shoulder and some, some were John laying helpless on the desert floor, watching a bullet enter Riley's head and Riley going down never to get up.

John had met Riley when the British Special Forces troop he was with setting up a base at the FOB he was at in Helmand. They had hit it off quite well as friends and had kept in contact when the base was moved; by the time they met up again in Kandahar they were ready to turn the long-distance relationship into a full-fledged one.

Riley's commanding officer was terrific, she gave them the time alone they needed, how could she deny them when she was engaged to one of her snipers.

It was at that point John learned that this team was no ordinary Special Forces team they were kind of a black ops outfit, but they weren't rude to the regular guys like some of the elite forces were, this team was terrific, well, all except for the new recruit that had joined them via Pakistan and Kabul. His name was Sebastian Moran and to call him rude was an understatement. He was continually trying to undermine the commanding officers not only of his team but of the FOB. And he treated Riley like crap, constantly bullying him. Riley was on the slender side, but he was not weak. Riley was strong, and it showed in his life as an army medic, John had to watch him carry an injured soldier across a field while also still carrying his full medical kit. His CO called him her little army ant.

His CO was pretty amazing too, she came from a wealthy family, but after some low points in her life she wanted to do something with her life and had joined the army, she excelled up the ranks pretty fast and was given this team not long after joining.  She was the first person John met that didn't make fun of his knack for always hitting his targets, she said she understood what it was like to have a special gift and that he should not be embarrassed by it. She then introduced him to Riley with the warning, don't hurt him, he's tiny, but he could snap the hulk in half if provoked.

It was love at first sight, but it wasn't something they could show, that didn't stop the CO from making sure they got lots of alone time.

John would be forever grateful for the time he had with Riley, but still, the memory of watching him die while John lay helpless would always haunt him.

Riley's parents had come to visit John while he was in the hospital. Not much he could say to them, he felt like he let them down. Riley had told them all about the amazing and talented Doctor John Watson, but he wasn't that amazing if he couldn't save his own lover.

The alarm buzzing jolted John back to the present, he looked around the tiny allotted flat, it had been assigned to him by the veterans services to help him transition to civilian life, the bullet in his shoulder and the unexplainable limp had rendered him invalid to continue in his service. But he had a week to find a new place; these flats were not meant for a long-term stay. He didn't want to leave London, rent was not cheap, and he didn't qualify for council flats, he was supposed to be getting a job at a hospital or clinic, the veteran's transition team was supposed to help. But all they wanted him to do was a visit a psychiatrist, and all she wanted him to do was write a blog.

So he did the Blog of John H. Watson, a man who nothing ever happened to. Yes he had a wild same-sex love affair, yes he had been in war, yes he had been shot, but that ended it that was the extent of what happened. He was normal now, another ordinary boring person who drifted through life. Who in the hell would want to read about that?

A few friends commented but mostly wanting to just catch up, John did not want to catch up with them.

John stood and headed to the shower, he let the water wash over him, he stared down and watched the water swirl down the drain.  He stood until the water ran cold before stepping out and getting dressed, he looked through the paper for flatshares, most were out of his price range or in areas of town he didn't want to live.

He put the paper away and looked down at his bare feet, he stood leaning heavily on his cane he went to make his modest breakfast, before sitting at the desk. He reached inside and pulled out his laptop, underneath was a pistol, he stared at it then let his hand caress it before shutting the drawer and opening the computer. He logged onto his blog and stared, he had an appointment with his therapist later, so he should write something just to shut her up.

He sighed and began to type.

=-=-=-=

Sherlock and Willa entered the morgue at St. Bartholomew's hospital. Molly Hooper, the bubbly medical examiner, looked up from the body she was autopsying and smiled.

 

"Hello Sherlock, Hi Willa, I'll be right over I am almost done with Kirk here." She smiled as she finished stitching him up.

"What brought this poor soul here?" Willa asked looking the body over

"Choked on a goldfish… the cracker, not the animal, the family still wanted a formal autopsy" Molly said taking off her mask gown and gloves and depositing them in the biohazard bin.

"What an awful way to die," Willa said as Molly covered the body again and started wheeling it the refrigeration wall. "Need any help with autopsies today?" Willa asked

"No sorry, just have the work upon the body from the fire yesterday." Molly said, "I haven't started yet Sherlock, but I will be right away."

Sherlock just nodded as he looked at the board on Molly's wall.

"Oh, you saw that I was just going to say I got you a body for your experiment," Molly said she was staring at Sherlock almost like a teen would stare at her favourite actor.

"Good" was all Sherlock said before taking the body tagged for him and heading to one of the other rooms.

"I do have some slides that need cataloguing," Molly said. Willa smiled.

"Thank you," Willa said following Molly to the microscope "I should be trying to find a job, but I still get tired so easily."

"Your body had massive trauma, it's going to take time to heal, and there is no hurry. You're certified to help me here, and maybe we can work on an internship based program as a lab tech here" Molly said setting out the slides.

Willa smiled "Thank you."

Molly smiled again and headed to the other room, Sherlock was just positioning the body the way he wanted it.

Molly almost shied away, but Sherlock noticed her, now was her chance the chance to ask him out.

She attempted to ask him out for coffee, but he either didn't understand or didn't care and took it to mean she was offering to get him a coffee; he put in his order then went back to setting up the body.

Willa looked up as Molly went to the breakroom.

Willa felt bad for Molly, she was enamoured with Sherlock, his mind, his gifts, and with him in general. Sherlock was utterly clueless to this, entire not that he was stupid, but things like that he just didn't make time for, he cared for his family but love, relationships, that wasn't really Sherlock's thing.

Sherlock had been a quiet child, Willa didn't have too many early memories (at three she had an unfortunate accident that saw her fall down the stairs and end up in a coma for a month) no memories really prior to that, she knew who she was and who her family was, sort of, but nothing else. She remembered Sherlock being a lot more lively, but when she returned from the hospital he was quiet, he took great care of Willa, but he and their older brother Mycroft always seemed to fight.

They always argued over who was the smarter one. The kids had all been tested, at least Willa was told she had been tested once, but she always refused since her accident. Willa hated the fighting and just wanted them to be a family.

As they got older they both got worse, Mycroft became quite snobbish and snooty, and Sherlock, Sherlock became quite the asshole. But Willa could see below that exterior, he was consciously choosing to push people away, he didn't want to get close to anyone, He even became more distant from Willa and their parents, Both Mycroft and Sherlock moved to boarding schools in their secondary school years.

In university, Sherlock met someone, and the walls he built had started to fall. He let Victor get close. Victor was the one who started Sherlock's experimenting with drugs. Victor used Sherlock, mostly for sex but he would also send him to work off debts. When Willa and Mycroft tried to intervene Victor beat Sherlock and gave him a dangerous mix. That was Sherlock's first stay in rehab. The walls went up, and they were stronger than they had been before, he even shut out Willa this time.

It was the push Willa did not need, and what drove her depression to the brink. She went home and ran the bath, climbed in and slit both her wrists with her father's straight razor.

Mummy found her.

Sherlock didn't even visit Willa in the hospital or in her treatment centre. She tried to make contact with him. It would start off well then he'd push her way. She was trying to tell him she was leaving, joining the military, but he wouldn't listen.

So she left, and he returned to the drugs. When Willa returned from her first tour, Mycroft invited her out for dinner, she asked about Sherlock and was told he was in treatment.

The anger Willa felt later that night standing by Sherlock's bed in the ICU, she could have strangled Mycroft.

She stayed with Sherlock though his entire hospital stay, and when he wasn't in the hold of the withdrawal, he was sweet again, the brother she loved.

He made time to be with her when she was in town, and after she was hurt, the first face she saw was Sherlock's

It still confused her why the walls were back up again, not to Mummy or Daddy or her, but to Mycroft and to others, he seemed to let Detective Inspector Lestrade in a bit. Willa knew for a fact that Sherlock knew full well Lestrade's first name was Greg, but still, he called him ever masculine G name under the sun. To outsiders looking in it was as if Sherlock was uncaring and was not bothered to remember Greg's name. But Willa saw the sparkle in Sherlock's eyes every time he used Graham, or Gavin, or George. He knew it made Greg chuckle and so he kept it up.

Sherlock had made room for Willa in his flat he took her in.

Sherlock claimed to be a high functioning sociopath, but in reality, he was scared to let anyone getting too close, for fear of getting hurt again.

=-=-=-=

John made his way through the park, still angrily thinking about his session with his therapist. He almost walked right passed the shorter rounder man calling to him.

John had known Mike Stamford when they were both at St. Bart's, John hadn't seen him since.

"Last I heard you were somewhere getting shot at," Mike said as the two stood on the park path "What happened?"

"I got shot" John answered a twinge of sarcasm wrapped in his tense voice.

John looked away, and Mike looked at the ground, John socked at the openness of his reply and Mike with slight embarrassment that his attempt at a joke was not actually funny in the light of reality.

Mike glanced at John's cane and motioned for them to sit on the bench; they talked for a bit when John opened up about his housing situation mike asked about a flat share.

"Who'd want to share a flat with me?" John asked

Mike gave a giggle

"What?" John asked half crossed and half confused.

"It's just you're not the first person to say that to me?" Mike smiled

"Oh"

"There's a guy who comes to work at Bart's sometimes, I think he's still there today if you have the time?" Mike asked

"Sure that would be great," John said standing.

=-=-=-

Sherlock sat at the microscope. He had kicked Willa off of it an hour ago and sent to her to another lab, Molly had said they received a guinea pig by accident, and they didn't use them, so she may have been able to persuade the lab to let her have it instead of them giving it to a pet store.

Mike entered followed by another man; Mike introduced him as John Watson. Sherlock gave him barely a glance before asking Mike if he could use his phone.

Sherlock liked texting, didn't like the unnecessary human interaction needed in a phone call.

The man offered his phone. Sherlock didn't care why but took it and sent the text he needed, the glanced over the phone. Scratches around the charging port, engraved with a name that was not John's.

"Iraq or Afghanistan?" Sherlock asked

"What?"

"You're a soldier recently home from war, somewhere with sun, so Iraq or Afghanistan?"

"Afghanistan" John replied looking over at Mike "What have you told him?"

"Nothing, that's just Sherlock" Mike smiled.

John looked back at the man in front of him, how would he know this?

"I see things that others can't" Sherlock replied not looking up from the microscope he returned to. "While others merely glance or look, I observe."

John just stared at the man, his first impression, arrogant, no wonder he thought he wouldn't find a flatmate, his second impression, alluring, there was something about this man that was very alluring and intriguing to John, not just an air of mystery but also just something so captivating. The feeling was indescribable to John, he didn't know why he felt this way he just knew he couldn't leave.

"I play the violin when I'm thinking. Sometimes I don't talk for days on end. Would that bother you? Potential flatmates should know the worst about each other."

"So you did talk to Mike" John replied

"No Told Mike this morning that I must be a difficult man to find a flatmate for. Now here he is just after lunch with an old friend, clearly just home from military service in Afghanistan, wasn't that difficult a leap."

Sherlock looked up and locked eyes with John, John felt a sudden warmness

"Oh ok" Was all he could manage to say.

"I have a place in central London, My flatmate was my sister, but she chose to move into the other flat in the basement of the building, better for her to raise her menagerie of pets she's accumulating, so I need someone to take over her half of the flatshare rate, together we could afford it"

"I don't know a thing about you" John managed to say.

Sherlock's phone buzzed in his pocket, took it out and glanced at it

"Oh look a signal, sorry I have to go, my sister rescued the guinea pig but seems to have overexerted herself, I need to take her home, and I think I left my riding crop in the mortuary."

Sherlock fixed his coat and headed for the door.

"Seven thirty tomorrow, The name is Sherlock Holmes, and the address is 221B Baker Street," He said

With that Sherlock was out the door, John just glanced over at Mike who had a huge grin.

"Yes, he's always like that, though he does have a soft spot for his landlady, and his sister, she was injured overseas too. Not too sure how he's not been very open about it. Actually, he's not very open about much really" Mike said John just nodded "So you going to go meet him tomorrow."

"Yeah, Why not," John said heading to the door. He couldn't explain it, but there was something so calming in the few moments they locked eyes.

=-=-=

Sherlock looked at Willa dozing in the taxi, guinea pig squeaking away in its travel cage. He didn't tell her about the potential new flatmate yet, his focus was more on getting her home, and in bed, he debated calling her physiotherapist but didn't want to overstep his bounds. She was exhausted but she wasn't moving well either, he knew she was eager to get back to a healthy life, but she was still fragile.

Sherlock always looked out for Willa, ever since she was three and his dog, Redbeard, accidentally knocked her down the stairs.

He felt he needed to protect her, and then he failed, he withdrew from the world, and he abandoned her, her joining the military, allowing Mycroft to use her like he did in his private little military task force, were all because of him pushing her away.

Her injuries, in his mind, were there for his fault, and now he would do anything to help. He didn't let a lot of people get close but she was the closest one could get to him, he just hoped she knew that.

Sherlock turned and looked out the window, was he making the right choice with this flatmate, not that he didn't trust Mike's judgment, Mike was a good man. But there was something odd about John; When Sherlock looked him in the eyes, he didn't get the response he wanted. John didn't spill his guts he didn't open up, he merely relaxed. This wasn't a bad thing it just didn't happen often, only ever happened with Mycroft, or Willa or Lestrade, others who had a gift. Whose minds were more well-formed then others? Not well formed as in intelligence but in the development of these gifts.

What was John's gift? Gifts were not something Sherlock could deduce, there were no tells to a gift, it took Sherlock about six cases with Lestrade to realise that he had one, that his deep empathy and compassion was a gift, that he could get into a person's heart and soul like Sherlock got into their mind. His gift was wasted in the police force, they didn't appreciate it. But Lestrade felt his call was to help the innocent to bring those who did wrong to justice, it's like he was trying to be a superhero or something.

Willa had said something once about how great power came with great responsibility. But Sherlock had just waved her off as being silly. They didn't have power; they had a gift a gift that must be used. Sherlock tried to not use it, but he couldn't help it, he tried suppressing it with drugs, but that didn't help, in fact, it made him unable to control it, if he wasn't careful, he could rip a person's mind apart, leaving it scarred. He had done that once, he didn't mean to but Victor wouldn't let go, he wouldn't stop. Victor was never a nice person, to begin with, but after the incident He was horrible, but big brother stepped in, and he was dealt with.

Sherlock smiled as they pulled up to the flat, he gently shook Willa, she mumbled but didn't wake.

He paid the driver and carefully took Willa in his arms, he said his thanks to the driver as the man placed the guinea pig cage in his hand, and headed inside. He carefully took Willa downstairs and laid her in bed, and put the cage on the cupboard next to the Rat cage, He gave them each some vegetables and headed up to his flat.

=-=-=-=-

John sat in front of his laptop; he opened his search engine and typed in Sherlock Holmes. What came up was a website called the Science of Deduction. John opened the website, well if he needed a good read to help him sleep, he could always read the tobacco ash analysis on his mobile.

He shut the website and sighed. What was he getting himself into?

==-=-=

Willa sat at the kitchen table; she carefully cut up the veggies in front of her separating the pieces into piles, one for Gwendolyn the rat, one for Peter the guinea pig, and one for herself.  She was proud of herself, she took the small two-wheeled cart Mycroft had bought her to move stuff around and had headed to the Sainsbury down the road and grocery shopped, and she took herself to lunch at Nandos and had a lovely walk back. It felt nice to go out, alone, and just take her time and enjoy herself.

She had heard Sherlock go out around 10am, she left shortly after, and now nearing 7pm he had just returned, there was another voice with him and they were talking to Mrs Hudson, must be a potential flatmate, Willa smiled, she should go up and see this poor soul that may get himself entwined with her brother.

As she stood pain shot through her leg, she grabbed the table to keep from falling, and then lowered herself back onto the chair; she gently massaged the tightened muscle. Meeting the guy would have to wait.

=-=-=-

Mrs Hudson scolded Sherlock as she entered the flat.

"You sister had only moved downstairs two days ago, how did you manage to gather so much clutter?" She said exasperatedly as she shook one of the curtains "and gather so much dust."

"It's for a case Mrs Hudson" Sherlock smiled.

John looked around; it was a lovely place, even if it was a little cluttered with some old library books on the couch and newspapers on the floor. The mantel had letters pinned to it with a knife, next to the letters…

"It that a skull?" John asked

"Yes, a friend of mine," Sherlock said he started to talk again but was cut off by Mrs Hudson.

"What do you think, then, Doctor Watson? There's another bedroom upstairs if you'll be needing two bedrooms" She smiled

"Of course we'll be needing two" John replied quickly. Why wouldn't they, he'd only met this man in front of him yesterday, in a morgue lab, this man who when he looked in his eyes made him feel calmer then he had felt in months, no years.

Mrs Hudson was still talking, something about another landlady having married ones, married ones of what? The older lady disappeared into the kitchen with a disapproving sigh at the sight of what looked like the upper half of a store mannequin sticking out of the sink dripping some strange green slime.

"I looked you up on the internet last night, found that deduction site of yours. Do people actually respond to you?" John asked

"Sometimes," Sherlock said, "what did you think?"

"You said you could identify a software designer by his tie and an airline pilot by his left thumb," John said half in disbelief half amazed.

"I read you, your career, just from you standing in front of me, right up to the fact that your therapist is right it is a psychosomatic limp" Sherlock said looking out the window.

John gave a glare to Sherlock as he settled himself into one of the chairs; this one faced the windows back to the kitchen.

Mrs Hudson asked Sherlock about the recent string of serial suicides, Sherlock just turned and face the door as it opened to reveal a man, about six feet, brown hair that was starting to grey.

John had seen him in the papers. Detective Inspector Greg Lestrade, He was the one leading the investigations into the serial suicides, there had been a fourth and this one had a note.

Sherlock seemed to light up as if he was told the most excellent news in the world, not that someone had died.

He paced the room a little asking about whom from the police was working the case; John couldn't take his eyes off of him.

Sherlock fluttered about, excited, said it was like Christmas, Told john to make himself comfortable, and he left.

Mrs Hudson said something about resting his leg, John snapped, didn't mean to raise his voice to the older lady, she had already been so sweet. It's just he'd gotten so caught up in Sherlock's excitement to only to just watch this fascinating man leave, and he sits here, cane and all.

"A doctor, an army doctor," Sherlock said from the doorway "You any good"

"Very good" John smiled

"See a lot of trouble and violent deaths," Sherlock asked, John just nodded "want to see more?"

"Oh god yes," John said practically jumping out of his chair and following the man.

=-=-=-=-

John sat in the cab heading to the crime scene. As he and Sherlock talked, while Sherlock explained how he deduced everything about John, John couldn't keep his eyes off of Sherlock, his eyes, this sort of greeny-gold that sparkled in the streetlight, and his lips, his lips were John's favourite.

As they arrived at the crime scene, John did have to correct Sherlock on one thing, Harry was short for Harriet. Sherlock was still impressed with his own accuracy.

John just looked around the dark street, the block of flats that were taped off, and wondered why the heck he was even here.

Sherlock didn't seem to be in the answering mood; instead, he was making deductions about two of the police officers, basically revealing to anyone around that the forensics guy, Anderson, was cheating on his wife with Lestrade's Detective Sergeant, Donovan.

John got the impression that Anderson and Donovan didn't like Sherlock.

That fact was further confirmed as John watched Sherlock work.

A litany of facts/deductions, delivered in a condescending tone. He was more condescending to Anderson then he was to Lestrade. Lestrade though did seem more open to Sherlock's methods.

Then suddenly as they had arrived, Sherlock left.

John just looked around the room then down at the body again. Then seemly ignored by everyone else John made his way down to the street.

Donovan informed him that Sherlock had gone. And that he did that quite often. It was like she was trying to get John to see Sherlock as she did.

While John was mad that he had been abandoned in Brixton, he was still processing all he had seen. He had read how brilliant people, geniuses were often absent-minded. And Sherlock was brilliant, maybe a genius. And he had only JUST met John, so being absently minded was fine.

John started heading down to the main road, once there he began the sometimes tricky process of hailing a cab.

As he walked the payphones around him were ringing. Exasperated John finally answered one.

This led to a long trip to an abandoned warehouse, and a well-dressed man with a pompous attitude, who was trying to get him to spy on Sherlock.

John refused, he couldn't put into words what he was feeling, or what his reasoning was, but he was not going to spy on him, and he was not going to turn and run.

The man was kind enough to let John stop by his other flat, before being dropped off at Baker Street.

Sherlock had text to come at once.

They had stopped by the bedsit so John could get his gun. Something in the back of his mind told him he would need it.

The car stopped in front of 221 and John got out. He entered the apartment to find Sherlock on the couch, eyes closed and his right palm resting in the crook of his left arm.

Sherlock stretched out his arm and removed his hand to reveal 3 round nicotine patches.

"They help me think," Sherlock said without opening his eyes. "It's hard to maintain a smoking habit in London these days. That coupled with the fact my sister shouldn't be around smoke, though I have had a few when out."

"Better for your health too," John said, "Wait is that three patches?"

"It's a three patch problem," Sherlock said sitting up.

He explained that he had text John to come at once as he wanted to use John's mobile to text to try and draw out the murderer. He didn't want to use his own mobile as the number might be recognised from being on his website.

John did as told and was even more confused. He tried to tell Sherlock about the encounter with the man in the warehouse, Sherlock seemed unfazed.

John was starting to get a little annoyed, at being basically a replacement for an inanimate object Sherlock usually talked to, and a bit aroused, Sherlock's energy was like a pheromone.

John backed Sherlock up against the wall and kissed him hard.

Sherlock was shocked at first but then reached up and put his hand on the back of John's head and held him close, returning the kiss and slipping his tongue into John's mouth sweeping it along the roof of John's mouth and under John's tongue.

John wrapped his arm around Sherlock's lower back and started guiding him to the couch. As he did the door opened.

"Sherlock I was thinking." The female voice started.

John pulled away and stood looking at the floor as Sherlock jumped up.

"I'm sorry," Willa said, "I'll go."

"No, no, Willa this is" Sherlock started as John turned

"JOHN!!" Willa said hurrying over

"Willa!" John said his embarrassment turning into a smile as he hugged her close

"You're alive."

"Thanks to you" She smiled hugging him again. "You're Sherlock's new flatmate, this is amazing. Sherlock, John is the one who saved my life in the field. He kept applying pressure even after he got shot. He was also one of my best friends over there."

John smiled

"I'm sorry I missed Riley's funeral, I was still in the ICU," Willa said giving John another squeeze

"It's ok, I missed it too. And Ashton's" John said as Sherlock guided Willa to the sofa.

"How far did you walk?" Sherlock asked as he elevated her legs

"Just to Sainsbury and back" Willa replied

"That's too far Willa if you needed groceries Mycroft or I could have gone," Sherlock said as he went and started boiling some water and dug around the kitchen for the hot water bottle he knew was there somewhere.

"I'm not a shut-in Sherlock," Willa said upset.

"No, but you are still healing" Sherlock called back.

Willa looked up at John.

"Sorry about being a cock block," She said

"It's fine; really, I think I just got caught up in Sherlock's energy and excitement," John said, and it was true, he really didn't know what compelled him to make a move, a sexual move so close after Riley's death.

"I was going to take John out to stake out for the murderer, but maybe it can wait one more night," Sherlock said bringing the water bottle and resting it on Willa's upper leg.

"People's lives are at stake Sherlock, and I'm fine I can take small walks," Willa said she was upset and embarrassed.

"Willa your femur was shattered by bullets, your leg was actually torn to shreds, and you almost lost it, you had four, four infections while in the hospital and three bone grafts, and they had to rebuild your femoral artery, you only got out of a wheelchair last week. You need your rest." Sherlock said as he adjusted the pillow under her leg.

John watched and frankly seeing Sherlock enter this caring, protective mode, it was really turning John on again.

"Four people dead, you contacted the murderer. Go and work the case, Sherlock!" Willa said practically shoving him to the door.

"Fine, but you stay here and don't move," Sherlock said getting his coat.

"Fine" Willa smiled "You and John go have fun, catch some bad guys."

Sherlock kissed her forehead, and he and John headed off.

=-=-=-=-=

On the street, Sherlock looked at John.

"Problem?"

"Yeah, Sergeant Donovan."

"What about her?" Sherlock said with exasperation as he adjusted his scarf

"She said ... You get off on this. You enjoy it." John said

"And I said "dangerous," and here you are," Sherlock said matter of factly.

John sighed it was true.

"You have many faces." John said as he followed Sherlock "The one you show me, which is similar to what you show Mrs Hudson. The one you show Willa, and the one you show the world."

"I interact with others based on their own personalities," Sherlock said, "I am who I am."

"And yet I can't tell exactly who you are," John said

"You will" Sherlock smiled as they approached their destination a restaurant called Angelo's

Sherlock led John in, and the owner himself came and served them. Sherlock had got him off a murder charge.

Angelo called John Sherlock's date, John just smiled, and what a great first date, waiting for a murderer.

The food came, and Sherlock alternated between watching John eat and watching their targeted building through the window behind John. John tried to pry more out of the man, but for being so open to near shag back at the flat to now sitting almost silent, like a bird of prey surveying the land. But Sherlock didn't correct Angelo when he called John his date, and from what John had already seen so far, Sherlock enjoyed correcting people when they were wrong.

John had only been looking for a flat share, but to find another relationship, John didn't think he was ready, but as Sherlock looked up and locked eyes with John, John calmed and smiled.

He brought attention to a taxi. Said it was very clever. They watched for a moment then they were up, and out.

They chased through the streets trying to catch the taxi, vaulting over cars and jumping gaps between buildings along the way.

All to catch a guy recently arrived from LA in the back of the taxi. Sherlock flashed an official-looking warrant card and sent the man on his merry way with a welcome to London.

As they left, John took the warrant card from Sherlock.

"This is Lestrade's," John said looking up at Sherlock.

"I pickpocket him when he's annoying," Sherlock said with a small smirk.

They looked to where a real police officer was interviewing the cab driver.

"Got your breath back?" Sherlock asked

John nodded, and the two took off down the road.

As they neared 221 Barker Street, John looked up at Sherlock.

"That was the most ridiculous thing I have ever done," John said with a smile.

"And you invaded Afghanistan" Sherlock smirked.

"Well not just me" John smirked as Angelo walked up.

"Here you left this behind," Angelo said handing John his cane.

John just smiled and looked at Sherlock.

"Guess I'm moving in" John smirked as they entered the flat.

"Mrs Hudson John is taking the Room" Sherlock called.

The landlady came out from her apartment, she was flustered

"Sherlock what have you done," She asked as they heard clattering upstairs.

The three took off upstairs. Police officers were searching through the flat, and Detective Inspector Lestrade was in Sherlock's chair lounged out like he was at a club. Willa was still on the couch.

"I told them I was forbidden to move and unless Lestrade wanted to carry me downstairs, I was staying put." Willa smiled

"I know you found the case" Lestrade smirked.

"You can't just break into my flat" Sherlock retorted

"I didn't break in, it's a drugs bust" Lestrade smiled.

John just looked at the two

"You won't find any" John said

"Shut up John" Sherlock replied

John just looked at Sherlock.

"Come on you," John said

"Shut UP," Sherlock said through gritted teeth.

John just stared. Willa tugged on his sweater and pulled him down next to her on the couch and whispered in his ear to just drop it Sherlock would tell him more when Sherlock was ready.

John nodded as Sherlock reminded Lestrade that he was not a sniffer dog for the MET.

"No, Anderson is my sniffer dog," Lestrade said as one of the men in the kitchen turned and waved. "They all volunteered," Lestrade said with a smirk, He looked over at Willa who just glared and Lestrade's smirk disappeared.

"There are human eyes in the microwave," Donovan said peeking out

"It's for an experiment" Sherlock replied with exasperation. He started to pace.

"They will keep this up, or you can help us properly," Lestrade said

"This is childish" Sherlock snapped

"NO this is OUR case, and you can't be withholding evidence, that is illegal" Lestrade replied

"And a pretend drugs bust is your response," Sherlock asked

"Not pretend if we find anything," Anderson said digging through the cupboard again.

"I AM CLEAN!!!" Sherlock said "I would never do that now not when I am caring for my sister. I don't even smoke. Had my last one a few nights ago."

Sherlock pulled up his sleeve to reveal one of the nicotine patches.

"Neither do I" Lestrade smiled pulling up his own sleeve to reveal a patch, Sherlock just rolled his eyes. "We work together."

Lestrade told Sherlock how Rachel was Jennifer, the 4th victim's daughter; she was stillborn 14 years earlier

"Why write that name than" Sherlock mused

"Hey didn't someone say that the case would be found with the murderer" Anderson spoke up as he entered with the case "and it's in the hands of our favourite psychopath."

"I'm not a psychopath, Anderson. I'm a high-functioning sociopath. Do your research." Sherlock snapped back facing Lestrade again.

Willa moved from sitting on the sofa to laying down on it. John kept one eye of the conversation.

His favourite part was Lestrade agreeing with Sherlock that Anderson had to turn and face the corner, and Sherlock telling Anderson that when he spoke he lowered the IQ of the Entire street.

John also checked over Willa, she was warm, a fever.

"I'm fine John" Willa smiled "Really, I just get warm when I'm tired."

John just nodded.

Mrs Hudson had been flittering in and out something about a Taxi waiting.

Sherlock was logging on to a mobile phone tracking site, logged on and looked to see where the mobile was. It was at 221.

John verified it.

The police just sighed and started packing up.

Sherlock paced and then he was gone.

John tried dialling the phone, nothing.

Lestrade sighed again, and Sally remarked about wasting their time.

John offered to check again, but they left, Lestrade giving his apologies to Willa, she just gave a small nod and watching him go. John couldn't tell what the relationship was between those two.

John looked at the screen again. The phone was moving.

The phone, the taxi, the taxi outside, now was moving.

John grabbed his coat and was out the door before Willa could even ask what was up.

And that is how John saved Sherlock's life.

He traced the phone to the building, then went looking, he thought he was too late, he could see Sherlock and the taxi driver through the window in the other building. He took out his gun, there were the pole and the thick window frames in the way. John raised the gun, and pulled the trigger, the taxi driver fell. John made sure he got out of there quickly.

John watched the scene from behind the police tape. Sherlock was sitting in the back of an Ambulance orange blanket around his shoulders. Lestrade was next to him. John could just make out what Sherlock was saying, he was telling Lestrade about the shooter. Sherlock looked and saw John standing there, Sherlock stopped talking.

"Actually, Ignore me," Sherlock said walking away from Lestrade

"Sorry?" Lestrade asked thrown off by Sherlock's sudden deviation

"Ignore all of that. It's just er, shock talking." Sherlock said trying to get ahead of the detective inspector

"Where're you going?" Lestrade asked glancing over at John

"I just need to talk about the-the rent. You know new flatmate things, and such" Sherlock replied

"I've still got questions for you," Lestrade said getting annoyed

"Oh, what now? I'm in shock! Look, I've got a blanket!" Sherlock irritatedly replied wiggling the corner of the blanket in Lestrade's face

"Sherlock!" Lestrade called as Sherlock kept walking

"I just caught you a serial killer ... more or less." Sherlock said, "And besides we all left in a hurry Willa is home alone and probably very worried from the amount of buzzing my mobile is doing."

Lestrade sighed and waved him off with a promise to see him in the morning to talk more.

"Nice shot," Sherlock said quietly

"I beg your pardon," John asked with feigned shock

"All those obstacles and that distance, and yet the bullet found it's mark…. Of course, that is your gift" Sherlock smiled and looked at John.

"Since as long as I can remember… I don't miss" John smiled.

"Are you alright after killing a man, not on the battlefield?" Sherlock asked

"Well, he wasn't a nice man," John said, "And a bad cabbie."

"Dreadful you should see the route he took to get here," Sherlock said

The two looked at each other and giggled

"We can't giggle this is a crime scene," John said trying to stifle another giggle looked up to see the well-dressed snob getting out of a car "That's the guy I told you about. from the warehouse."

"Ah yes, Mycroft, he's Willa, and I's older brother" Sherlock smirked

They stopped for a small chat before Sherlock just kept walking.

"Dinner?" He asked

"Starving, but what about Willa," John asked

"I already text her before the police arrived. She requested that if we go out, we bring her ice cream" Sherlock smiled

"So dim sum?" John asked

"I can always predict the fortune cookie" Sherlock smiled

"NO you can't," John said

"We can try, and you will see" Sherlock smiled again "So in Afghanistan were you actually shot or what?"

"I was, in the shoulder" John replied

"Ah ha I was right, the left one" Sherlock chuckled

"Willa told you" John replied

"Willa doesn't have much memory of what happened, she knows you were there, but then you left," Sherlock said

"I got her on the E-Vac truck and then was loaded up on the next one myself," John said as they neared the small Chinese place.

=-=-=-=-

Sherlock sat at his laptop, John and Willa (having finished her ice cream) had long gone to bed. Sherlock looked over notes and articles.

This was the answer, to the voices on the phone and to the cabbie's behaviour, and to many other cases and questions Sherlock had.

Moriarty.


	2. Together

John cuddled up next to Sherlock, the taller man was sleeping on his stomach, John propped himself up on his elbow and started tracing along a scar on Sherlock back, it ran in a curve under his right shoulder blade.  It was a surgical scar, which was all Sherlock had said, he had a few, but wouldn't say more. John knew Sherlock had a rough time as a teenager and young adult. He had opened up to John about his drug use, not entirely but enough.

In the two months since John moved into 221B Baker Street Sherlock had started to open up more.

There had been crime scenes, lots of crime scenes, and Sherlock was still the same to Anderson and Donovan. Sherlock always made John laugh when he pointed out that Donovan and Anderson had been at each other's place, and revealing that Anderson's wife was catching on to the affair. Anderson, of course, thought Sherlock had told on him. Sherlock was not interested in exposing to Mrs Anderson her husband's indiscretion. Mrs Anderson was perfectly capable of figuring out things herself.

John chuckled at the thought and leaned in and kissed Sherlock's shoulder, softly he worked his way up Sherlock's back to his neck then up his neck to his ear.

"Why don't you wake up and I will show you a little trick I can do with my tongue" John whispered.

Sherlock smiled but kept his eyes closed as John continued kissing. Once John reached his cheekbone, a laugh escaped Sherlock's mouth. John took the opportunity of his open mouth to slip his tongue in as he kissed him. Sherlock slowly rolled onto his back as they continued the kiss. Eventually, John broke the kiss to catch his breath and Sherlock smiled up at him.

"Was that your trick?"

"Not even close," John smiled and kissed him again.

Sherlock pulled him closer, so John was practically lying on top of him. As he felt John's erection press against his hip, Sherlock marvelled at how such a fantastic person could like him. He had never met anyone so kind, brave and loyal. John was everything he never knew he needed. Sherlock was pulled out of his reverie when John pinched his nipple.

"Stay with me. No hiding in that mind palace", John smiled and kissed his neck.

"Sorry."

"No need to apologise."

One of John's hands went to Sherlock's hair, while the other ran down his torso to rest on his hip. Sherlock could feel himself getting harder by the second. He focused all his attention on the movements of John's lips and hands so he wouldn't miss anything. Once John finished sucking a nice dark bruise on his neck, he raised his head and looked Sherlock in the eyes.

"What would you like me to do?"

Sherlock paused. He'd never had anyone treat him like this before. It had always been whatever and whenever they wanted, never what he liked. John smiled gently at him as he thought, hand lightly rubbing his hip. It was a couple of minutes before Sherlock finally spoke.

"I want to see your trick, John."

"Ok, anything else?"

Sherlock blushed and looked away. Though he and John had done many things in their two months together, they had been taking everything slowly, so what he was going to ask for would be a big step. John gently grabbed his chin and moved his face, so they were looking eye to eye again.

"There is nothing to be nervous about here," John said and then carefully kissed him.

"I want you. John. You inside me," Sherlock nervously answered.

"Are you sure? Please don't feel you have to. If-" Sherlock cut off John with a hard kiss.

"I want it more than anything. Please John," Sherlock pleaded.

John smiled and began to kiss his way down Sherlock's chest. With his hands, he began to untie and remove Sherlock's pyjama bottoms. He looked up at Sherlock and grinned widely.

"No pants. You naughty boy."

Sherlock blushed which made John giggle.

 

"Oh, by the way, you won't be able to see the trick, just feel it," John smiled.

Sherlock was about to make a comment in return, but all rational thought left his head as John's fingers ran slowly up his erection. The only thing to escape his mouth was a loud groan. John continued the slow movements of his fingers up and down the shaft until Sherlock was aching with anticipation. He was just about to order John to get on with it when John quickly moved his head to position his mouth near the base of Sherlock's penis. His tongue joined his hand in the slow movements. He gently licked and sucked on all the right places, causing Sherlock's toes to curl. John then rolled and flicked his tongue along the length of Sherlock's erection.

"John," Sherlock loudly moaned.

John looked up with a smile. He was pretty sure Mrs Turner's married ones heard that.

"Too much. Too much, John. I need. I need you," Sherlock gasped out as he reached for John.

"Ok. I've got you."

John moved, so he was lying beside Sherlock. He carefully held him and kissed his shoulder.

"Just breathe Sherlock," John whispered.

Sherlock nodded and attempted to calm. Once his breathing was almost back to normal Sherlock reached down to rub his hand against the front of John's pyjama bottoms. John groaned into Sherlock's shoulder at the contact.

"You are far too overdressed John. Those need to come off," Sherlock stated.

John smiled and stood up to take off his pyjama bottoms and pants. Sherlock watched intently as John stripped off his clothing. John turned to face the bed and grinned at the sight before him. Sherlock, lying naked in the middle of the bed, patiently waiting for him. John ran his hand up his own shaft as he looked at him. John had yet to understand how such an exquisite being like Sherlock could ever see anything in him, a boring old soldier with the scars to prove it.

"John," Sherlock whined, "You are much too far away."

"What shall I do then?"

"Me," Sherlock said with a smile.

"You make a convincing argument," John replied.

Sherlock reached for the lube on his bedside table as John crawled back on the bed beside him. John kissed him gently as Sherlock placed the tube in John's hand.

"Remember, you can change your mind at any time. I'll st-" John started but was cut off by Sherlock.

"Yes, yes. I know John. You'll stop. It'll all be ok. Now, will you fuck me already."

John giggled at Sherlock's comment. The dirty talk was not one of the consulting detective's strong suits so any time such language was used it surprised John.

"What?"

"You. You're perfect Sherlock."

Sherlock smiled and pulled John close. They lay that way for a few minutes, holding each other and kissing any skin they could reach. Finally, Sherlock moved his hips ever so slightly, just enough for his erection to rub against John's hip. John smiled and kissed his forehead. He then opened the tube and poured some lube on his hand. Sherlock moved his legs apart and smiled as John settled between them. Even though he was expecting it, John's gentle brushes of his fingers around his opening surprised Sherlock enough to cause him to inhale sharply. John immediately stopped and looked up at Sherlock.

"Please John. I'm fine," Sherlock reassured him.

John smiled and continued. Slowly Sherlock relaxed enough to allow John to get a finger in. Sherlock groaned happily at the feeling. John slowly and gently worked his way up to three fingers. Sherlock panted and squirmed beneath him.

"Please John. Now. I need you," Sherlock begged.

John carefully removed his fingers and moved to kiss Sherlock on the lips.  It was a deep soul connecting kiss that made Sherlock realise that this is how it is supposed to feel. True and complete love. Soul mates. His other half. John, who felt it too, reluctantly broke the kiss and moved back into position. He slowly sank into Sherlock, careful to not cause too much discomfort. Once all the way in John paused, allowing Sherlock to adjust to the feeling. In Sherlock's opinion John was taking much too long, so he thrust his hips towards John. The movement caused them both to groan. John started slowly moving, and Sherlock threw his head back on the pillow. It had never felt this good. As John increased the pace, Sherlock scrabbled for something to hold on to. Finding John's hands, he clung to them tightly. John adjusted his angle and knew he'd hit the right spot when Sherlock squeezed his hands hard enough to bruise and let out a moan that the whole street likely heard. It didn't take much after that for either of them. A few more thrusts at the new angle and Sherlock came, hard. He closed his eyes and was unable to make a sound as the pleasure coursed through him. Feeling Sherlock constrict around him pushed John over the edge, and he came too.

"Sherlock," he cried.

They stayed like that for a few minutes, trying to catch their breath. Eventually, John pulled out and cuddled in beside Sherlock. He held John close and kissed his forehead.

"I love you, John Watson."

At first, John looked surprised, and then tears welled up in his eyes. Sherlock worried that he did something wrong and upset John. His worry abated as John rested their foreheads together.

"I love you too Sherlock Holmes."


	3. What a Game

Greg sat at his desk looking out over the city. It had been a quiet morning, that was never good, meant there would be a busy night. He was off in a few hours not much for him to do now except wrap up some paperwork and head home.

There were a few things on the telly he may watch. Margaret was out again tonight, this time with Lisa from the chemistry department. Seemed his wife wanted to go out with her friends over him, that was fine. Maybe John was available, grab a pint and catch a match there were a few rugby matches tonight. No John would be with Sherlock if they weren't solving crimes or helping clients they would be in the bedroom.

Willa said they could spend hours in there.

Willa, Greg smiled. She was so pleasant to be around, so kind and so caring, like a mother to all the animals she'd taken in. Maybe she'd fancy a walk in the park with a nice meal.

He'd swing by Baker Street and see if she was available. With another smile, he locked his office and headed to the parking garage.

=-=-=

Willa sat on her couch. She watched as Gwendolyn the rat, Peter the guinea pig, and Sam and Gene the Ferrets ran through their tunnels. It had taken her three weeks and help from Sherlock and John to get the whole maze up and running. Each species had their own tunnels in the proper dimensions, Gwendolyn's were pink, and Peter's yellow, while Sam and Gene had purple. They went in and out of the rooms with inclines and dips, plenty of running space and little food hiding spots. And all tunnels led their respective cages with bedding and even more toys. Chirp and Squeaker her two budgies happily chirped away in the corner. Harlow and Bogart, the cats, were by the window taking in the sun.

"Yes, Chirp I do think this new seed Mycroft gave us will be our go to seed. I can't believe how nice it makes your feathers look." Willa said as she stood, someone was heading down the stairs. "Doesn't sound like Sherlock. Wonder who it could be?" Willa said as the person knocked. She opened the door. "Greg! Hi, is everything ok?"

"Yeah, it's great. I was wondering if you were free this evening?" Greg said with a small smile. "Though we could go to the park, Sherlock said you've been increasing your walking."

"I would like that." Willa smiled

"We don't have to go too far" Greg added, "Sherlock said you had a little setback last week."

"Sherlock talks about me at crime scenes?" Willa asked with a bemused smile

"Well, I asked." Greg blushed.

"I am doing well. I am still in physio, and while the recovery time for a fractured femur is anywhere from 12 weeks to 12 months, I'm going to take longer." Will replied getting her shoes.

"Well, your injury was quite bad," Greg replied. He remembered Sherlock inviting him to visit Willa in the hospital. The Doctors said having people she knew visit would help. Her leg looked like a construction site with all the scaffolding on it. It was an external frame to help with all the internal hardware that was holding the bones, tissue, arteries, and veins together. There were multiple times they thought she would lose her leg. But she was a fighter, like Sherlock.

"Yes, and it's healing, and it wasn't a setback per se I slid putting up the last of Sam and Gene's track and sprained my OTHER knee," Willow said grabbing her jacket.

"You're ok though right?" Greg asked.

"Yep." Willow smiled "my cane keeps me upright."

"Ok. I just don't want you getting hurt."

"I won't."

Willa jumped as a shot rang out upstairs. Greg looked up, what was going on up there. There were voices.

"Sherlock?!" Willa called fear in her voice.

"Everything is fine." John called back "Sherlock is bored and though shooting the wall was a good idea."

"Well, it wasn't'. Tell Sherlock if he's bored he can come to do my dishes" Willa hollered back. "Greg and I are going out for a bit."

"Ok," John called

Willa shook and held onto Greg's arm a little tighter as they headed for the front door.

"You sure you're ok?" Greg asked

"I don't like gunshots," Willa replied

"Ok," Greg replied giving her a hug.

"Thanks," Willa replied as they stepped out onto the street. Willa looked up and saw Sherlock peering out the window, she waved, and he smiled and shut the curtain.

"Big Brother is watching." Greg laughed

"In more ways than one." Willa giggled as she nodded to a CCTV security camera on the side of a building.

Greg laughed.

His laugh was cut off by a loud bang and a hard force that knocked him forward. He grabbed Willa close and allowed her to fall onto him. Pain shot through his arm and side as he hit the ground and Willa landed half on him.

"Willa?" Greg called through gritted teeth, there was no answer. "Willa?" He tried louder. He heard a shaky intake of breath.

Slowly he forced himself to sit. His left arm refused to work, and breathing made his side feel like it was filled with daggers. He looked to his right. Willa was on the ground, curled up head covered she was shaking.

"Willa?" Greg asked softer as he reached out with his uninjured arm.

Willa flinched as his hand touched her shoulder.

"Not again, Not again." She said through tears as she began to rock. "I can't no, please, not again."

"It's ok Willa. It's ok. I'm right here. You're safe." Greg said as he placed his hand on her shoulder. A wave of fear and terror washed over him. Willa was in the full throws of a panic attack. Greg softly talked to her, again he reassured her that she was ok. That she would be ok. "Smells like a gas leak, an awful accident but an accident nonetheless."

Sirens were heard in the distance as people that were on the far reaches of the blast came over to those who were caught up in it. A man knelt next to Greg and Willa, Willa flinched again.

"Sorry but could just give her some space." Greg said to the man "She a veteran and in need of some space."

"Of course." The man said moving to the other side of Greg. "Here I can splint your arm. And other injuries?"

"I believe I've injured my ribs as well." Greg replied as he gave Willa's arm a reassuring squeeze "Willa can you move? Can you turn? Can you look at me?"

"I, I don't want to move," Willa said voice still shaky.

"What hurts?" Greg asked

"My head, my legs." She replied

"OK, the ambulances are coming. You're going to be ok." Greg said reassuringly.

"Sherlock, John, Mrs Hudson!" Willa said trying to sit only to stop as dizziness hit.

Greg looked up at the building to the left. The front windows were blown out, but structurally it looked sound. Greg relayed this information to Willa.

"Sherlock was right by the window before the blast," Willa said as ambulances pulled up.

Greg looked at the man. "Sorry, can you go knock on 221 and see if everyone inside is alright?"

"Of course." The man said standing and going.

A set of paramedics approached Greg and Willa.

"Her first." Greg said, "She has a medical alert bracelet on her right arm that can be scanned to give you her history."

The paramedics nodded as one knelt by Greg and the other by Willa.

The paramedic started by placing a bandage on Greg's head and taping it there, Greg wasn't even aware he'd hurt his head.

The man returned.

"The lady on the main floor is fine; the two blokes on the upper floor are on their way down." He replied.

"Thanks," Greg said as the paramedic splinted his arm and checked his side.

"Do you think you can walk to the ambulance?" The paramedic asked

"Yeah just need a hand up," Greg replied.

The paramedic carefully helped Greg up. Greg's legs wobbled as he stood.

"Ok. You sit here." The paramedic said pulling over one of Speedy's patio chairs. "And I'll go get my transport chair."

Greg just nodded as he watched the paramedic with Willa. He'd checked her over and got her lying on her back, her forehead and cheek were bloody from hitting the pavement, and he was splinting her bad leg.

"Willa!" Greg heard Sherlock call

"Easy Sherlock careful" John said.

Greg looked up to see John helping Sherlock over. The detective was limping, and John had blood on the side of his face.

"Debris," John said to Greg when saw the Inspector looking.

Greg nodded as the Paramedic returned.

"There is another ambulance on the way sir." He said to Sherlock and John.

"I'm fine, I don't need an ambulance," Sherlock said leaning on John.

"Maybe a good idea." John said, "Just as a precaution."

"It's merely bruised," Sherlock replied as he tried to kneel by Willa only to wince and hiss at the bending of his knee.

"Go get checked out, please," Willa said as the paramedic with Greg helped him into the chair then moved over to help the other paramedic lift Willa onto the stretcher.

"I can wait," Greg replied. "Here put me back on the patio chair and Sherlock can ride in this one with Willa."

"Nope I already took charge of you, you come with me," The first paramedic said. "Look another ambulance is here already."

Greg just nodded as the Paramedic took Willa to the ambulance before returning for him.

John was already taking to the new Paramedics as the doors closed, and they drove away.

=-=-=-=-=-

Mycroft had sent people to repair the windows, the job was half done, but that didn't stop them from returning home after their overnight stay in the hospital for observation. Well, Willa had been held, but Sherlock stayed with her and John stayed with Sherlock.

Sherlock sat in his chair, violin on lap crutches beside him. The bruise was a knee sprain, and the crutches were a precaution and orders of rest that John insisted on. It just made Sherlock grumble. It was in a brace it would be fine it barely hurt anymore.

John escaped with a four-stitch cut next to his eye and a three-stitch cut on his cheek from glass hitting him.

Willa was on the couch sleeping. Landing on Greg had spared her any broken bones, but she had jarred herself quite severely and received a concussion not from her head hitting the ground but instead a chunk of debris hitting her as she fell. Sherlock insisted she stay up with them so they could keep an eye on her, which mean all her shaken animals were in travel cages in their living room. Well, the smaller animals. Harlow was curled on Willa while Bogart was perched on Sherlock's shoulder.

Greg's arm was broken near the elbow, but he did not require surgery, and he'd broken a rib and bruised several others, Greg had been treated and released. Willa had wanted to him to stay, but he said he had to go home. And according to a text, Willa got this morning he was already back at work.

Footsteps on the stairs made John look up.

"Mycroft," Sherlock said without looking up as the person in the hall knocked.

John stood and let in the eldest Holmes.

"Hello. And how are we all today." Mycroft said as he entered.

Sherlock made the motion for Mycroft to be quiet and pointed to Willa asleep on the couch.

Mycroft nodded and looked at his little sister.

"Any more nightmares?" He asked

"No, but she did have a minor panicked moment when we returned," John answered.

"Perhaps it would be best if she came stayed with me for the time being," Mycroft remarked.

Harlow hissed at him and batted him away as he passed.

Sherlock smirked, "Believe that is your answer Mycroft."

Mycroft frowned and narrowed his eyes before commandeering John's chair, sitting and placing a folder on his lap.

"I know you are, resting, but I need your assistance on a pressing matter of National Security." Mycroft attempted to hand Sherlock the folder, but Sherlock reached up and scratched Bogart's chin. "Andrew West, known as Westie to his family and friends. Part of a new missile defence project was found dead this morning."

"And," Sherlock said as he started to softly play his violin.

"And we believe that he sold secrets, his flash drive is missing, and it appears he committed suicide," Mycroft added.

"So sold the plans then out of guilt killed himself," John asked.

"So it appears," Mycroft replied.

"I will get to it... Eventually." Sherlock said as he softly played his violin.

"Please Sherlock this is a matter of great national security, this missile project is critical." Mycroft insisted

Sherlock just ignored him. Mycroft tried to hand him the file only to have Sherlock ignore him. Instead, Mycroft gave the folder to John. John flipped through the file, photos of Mr West and notes on his home and of all who knew him.

“Doctor Watson I ask that you try to persuade my brother,” Mycroft replied. “If it is Willa’s well-being that you are worried about I can send a home care nurse to take care of her.”

“I don’t need a nurse,” Willa said waking. She painfully stretched before attempting to sit up. John tossed the file on the table and helped. “Thanks. I’m fine Mycroft. The Critters and I will be moving back downstairs shortly, I have some art projects I started yesterday that I’d like to finish.”

“This flat is not appropriate for your recovery. My house would be much better suited, no stairs and even floors.” Mycroft started.

“And no animals, you never home, just me alone with the maid and butler.” Willa interrupted “no thank you, this is my home.”

Mycroft sighed and turned to face Sherlock again.

“Sherlock” he started again.

Sherlock merely cut him off with a screeching of the violin strings.

Mycroft frowned and left.

“Sherlock yesterday you were shooting the wall you were so bored, and now your brother comes giving you a case, and you ignore it,” John stated

“Boring,” Sherlock replied as his phone rang. He took it out and looked. “Lestrade.” He opened it “Hello, yes, ok, no I’m fine, yes. Ok.” He hung up. “John we are being summoned to the MET.”

“Oh ok,” John said standing. He watched as Willa wobbly stood.

“Um. Could I just stay here for a bit.” She asked

“Of course,” Sherlock said coming over and giving her a kiss on the forehead. “You rest. You and your menagerie are always welcome up here.”

John helped Willa settle into Sherlock’s chair as Sherlock headed downstairs to hail a taxi.

-=-=-=-=

Lestrade stiffly stood as Sherlock and John entered his office.

“The explosion.” He began

A gas leak.” Sherlock asked.

“Nope. Just made to look like one. They surveyed the scene and found an extremely strong lockbox inside, was this.” Greg said holding out an envelope with his good hand. “It’s addressed to you. it was x-rayed and examined no booby traps or chemicals.”

“How reassuring,” Sherlock smirked as he opened it to reveal a phone. “Hmm seems someone wants to have a little game.” Sherlock’s smile grew as the phone vibrated.

There was a message, Sherlock hit the button to hear four short beeps.

“The Greenwich pips?” Greg asked

“And a Photo,” Sherlock said as the file on the phone opened. “We have to get home NOW!”

Sherlock shoved the phone into his pocket and hurried out of the office neglecting the crutches that were leaning against the filing cabinet.

John grabbed them and followed, Greg working to keep pace.

=-=-=

Sherlock burst into his flat.

“Willa!?” He called slight panic in his voice.

“I’m in the washroom. Is everything alright, how’s Greg.” She asked

“I have to go into your flat,” Sherlock said before heading down to the basement.

John and Greg watched the chaotic movements of the consulting detective.

The followed him into the flat.

Sitting on the coffee table on a towel were a pair of trainers. Old well-worn and muddy trainers.

“Sherlock what is going on,” Willa asked as she slowly made her way from the top.

Sherlock held the photo up for Greg and John. A splint photo, on one side the trainers on the table the other Willa sleeping in Sherlock’s chair.

“Willa, I know it is not the most ideal, but I think it would be best if maybe you go stay with Mycroft,” Sherlock said turning to go meet his sister on the stairs.

Willa’s answer was cut off by the ringing of the phone.

Greg helped her down the final steps as they and John watched Sherlock on the phone.

They could only hear Sherlock’s responses, and it sounded like he talking to whoever blew up the building and put the trainers in the flat.

Sherlock hung up and looked at the three.

“I guess for real, the game is on.” He replied as he wrapped the shoes up in the towel.

=-=-=-=

John followed Sherlock around trying to get him to use his crutches as they crisscrossed London chasing the phantom caller and his games for Sherlock.

The 1st case took them to St Bart’s for testing. There they met Molly and her new boyfriend, Sherlock could have been a lot nicer in breaking the news that he was a struggling gay, not sure of his sexuality entirely. The shoes belonged to Carl Powers a young swimmer who died when Sherlock was eight. It was one of his first cases.

Next, it was a man faking his death to escape financial trouble.

A dead reality star killed by her brother's angry lover.

Then a painting, a fake painting.

In between John worked the Andrew West case on behalf of Sherlock. He talked to Mycroft, he spoke to the fiancé and to the soon to be brother in law.

Now he was crouched down by the track at the Battersea switch station.

There was no blood anywhere, that wasn’t right, ahead smashed in like was reported and photographed. That was impossible and no way it could have all been rinsed away. And the Yardmaster said there was hardly any, to begin with.

John studied the tracks, the switch moving in and out of place.

That was it!

“Andrew West was found here but killed somewhere else.” Sherlock’s unexpected voice startled John.

“You promised you would stay at home and rest, especially since you refuse to get another pair of crutches after leaving them in that cab.” John scolded.

“You honestly think I would let a case go out of spite.” Sherlock smirked pulling John in and kissing him “come, let’s go get the murderer.”

John sighed and followed.

The soon to be brother in law did it. Stole the plans to pay off a drug debt. Killed Andrew when confronted.

The police took Joe off to jail, and Sherlock and John headed home.

Willa was back downstairs all animals with her, her light was off, she was no doubt already asleep. Sherlock settled into his chair and put his leg up on the ottoman, he would never admit it was hurting. He grabbed his laptop and started to work away.

John stretched then looked at the calendar he’d hung near the door. He was supposed to meet mike for a drink, in 20 minutes.

“Sherlock, I am going out. Drinks with Mike. Will you be alright.” John said putting his coat back on. Sherlock just made a noise of vague acknowledgement and nodded. “Did you want to come?”

Sherlock grunted a no as he typed away. John smiled and headed downstairs.

John pulled up his collar at the wind that was now starting to pick up.

He never heard the footsteps behind him, and he never felt the needle enter his neck.

All he felt where the arms around him and then a wave of warmth wash over him as he drifted into unconsciousness.

=-=-=-

Sherlock looked at the clock. It was almost midnight. John and Mike must have been having a great time to not be home yet, maybe there was some sort of game on.

Sherlock carefully stood, his knee was stiff, maybe a massage from John later would help.

Sherlock put his coat on and headed out to the pool.

=-=-=-=

They got to John, this Moriarty this criminal mastermind, consulting criminal. First, he got to Molly dating her. And now Moriarty got to John. He strapped explosives to John, Sherlock barely contained his fear. He’d found someone so close to him someone who he was comfortable with who didn’t give into his gift, who really spoke from the heart without being coerced.

That was something Sherlock noticed about others with gifts. They couldn’t be used against another gift user. Mycroft had been quite upset when he learned he could not persuade Sherlock into doing his bidding, or make Willa do his chores. Why Everything John had told him came from his heart and not from an unknown compulsion.

Standing eye to eye with Moriarty, Sherlock realised that Moriarty had never met a fellow, gifted person. The frustration on Moriarty’s face was near blinding. He got angrier as he realised that whatever he was trying to do was not working.

He left, and Sherlock tore the explosive vest off John and pulled him close. He kissed him tight, scared that if he let go, he would lose him forever.

“I’m alright Sherlock, a little groggy from the sedative, a little bruised from being manhandled but I am alright,” John said as Sherlock kissed him again.

The door to their right opened.

“Sorry boys. I’m so changeable.” Moriarty declared as he walked through the doors with a smirk.

“You can’t be allowed to continue, you just can’t.”

Sherlock looked at John, then to the gun in his hand then to the discarded explosives vest laying in the near middle of the three men. John nodded and carefully got into position as Sherlock aimed the gun at the vest. Before Moriarty could even respond, Sherlock pulled the trigger. John pushed himself off the wall and tackled Sherlock into the pool as the explosion rocked the pool building.

Moriarty dove back through the doors as the blazing remnants of the vest and the surrounding area flew towards him. The flames singeing his face and arm. Sherlock and John wouldn’t be dead, they were too clever, but they were unreachable now. The roof, however, had come down over where the vest once laid. It was too dangerous to try and navigate over the ragged debris.

Moriarty reached up and touched the burn on his face. It stung, it better not scar or Sherlock was in for way more than he had initially planned.

With one last look at the smouldering mess, Moriarty ducked out of the pool. Sherlock Holmes and John Watson were going to be more difficult than he initially thought. What was sherlock’s gift, The deductions didn’t seem right, what else did the genius have up his sleeve. And John Watson. Moriarty had heard stories of him, the man who never misses. But there was another similar to him. Moriarty had debated bringing him into his network. Maybe it was time to visit the Military Corrective Training Centre in Colchester, Essex. Visit one of their unique cases, a talented young man who could make anyone’s emotions run rampant. And as an added bonus, he was a pretty good sniper in his own right.

John groaned as he pulled himself out of the pool at the far end away from the explosion, something had hit his back, and he was pretty sure his shoulder was dislocated.

Sherlock sat on the ladder next to him. He was pale, one arm wrapped around himself.

“Sherlock?” John asked with concern.

“I, I think something fell and hit me,” Sherlock replied, he was taking short, shallow breaths.

 John grabbed Sherlock under the shoulders and pulled him away from the water. He moved Sherlock's arm, no blood, he pushed up Sherlock’s shirt. In the dim lights, he could just make out the awkward movement of Sherlock’s rib cage. Flail chest, multiple adjacent ribs broken in multiple places, separating a segment, making part of the chest wall moves independently when breathing. John moved so that he had more light. With just a glance it looked as if there were about three or four ribs involved.

“Ok Let’s put your arm back there for support,” John said painfully removing his jumper (he shoulder popped in then slid out again) and folding it up and placing it against Sherlock’s chest before putting his arm over it. “Wish you had worn your scarf, would have made a good rope to tie it in place for extra support.”

“Sorry.” Sherlock softly replied.

“It’s ok, you just stay still and keep quiet,” John said standing. His head swam a little.

“You have a concussion, and your shoulder is dislocated you shouldn’t be move either.” Sherlock struggled out.

“Ok, I’ll stay by you, there sirens in the distance, no doubt Mycroft will already know too,” John said, Sherlock just nodded and made a sound of agreement. John looked up as Mycroft entered with some of his men. “Sherlock needs an ambulance now. No questions no admonishment, just get him medical help.”

“Of course.” Was all Mycroft said as the medics started to work on the injured men. Mycroft just stared out over the damage and sighed. “I will call Willa to meet you at the hospital. I’m sure her guest would drive her.” Mycroft said before he leaving.

John looked over to Sherlock, but the consulting detective was already being loaded onto the stretcher to go.

John sighed as the paramedic began asking him questions, wondering who this guest of Willa’s was.


End file.
